Betrayal (46 page)

‘It can’t wait, this thing?’

I shook my head. ‘It’s someone who might have information, you see. About Sylvie.’

She gave me a searching, almost hostile look. ‘I thought Charles was dealing with all that.’

‘He’s tied up, and this man’s about to fly off somewhere. It’s the only chance.’

She was very still. ‘Where’s all this leading, Hugh?’

‘Leading?’

‘What’s the point of it all?’

I stared at her, baffled by her attitude. ‘The
point
?’ I heard the impatience in my voice and argued more reasonably, ‘Well, someone killed Sylvie, didn’t they? So someone has to know
something
about it. The people she mixed with, the dealers . . . If we don’t make an effort to find out, then, then—’ But mystification blocked my words.

‘I think . . .’ She hesitated for a long moment. ‘I think it would be a mistake to hope for too much.’

‘I’m not hoping for
too much
—’

The phone rang and, pushing my chair back roughly, I got up to answer it.

‘Bingo,’ said Pike’s voice. ‘But you’ll need to bring some cash.’ Five minutes later, armed with a batch of traveller’s cheques and credit cards, still smarting a little from my discussion with Ginny, I was heading for the motorway.

Pike had booked Hayden into one of the smarter hotels on the airport periphery, a newish place with a lobby designed in what Ginny would disdainfully dub the mid-Atlantic country-house style, with garish chintzes and hunting scenes and dimpled leather sofas. Pike hadn’t stinted on the room either. He let me into a suite with a lobby, three doors leading off it, and a large display of fresh flowers.

Pike was a nondescript man, dead-eyed and stoop-shouldered, with an unhealthy complexion and lugubrious expression. Closing the door behind me, he murmured in the professional undertone of a copper, ‘He’s friendly enough, but greedy, I’d say. He finally agreed to a grand, cash in hand, plus a replacement air ticket at seven hundred, plus overnight expenses, but I reckon he’ll be after more. Shall I sit in?’

‘Please.’

Pike led the way into a sitting room with a mirrored bar complete with counter and stools. Hayden was lying back on a sofa watching television, his feet on a low table, drink in hand and a bowl of nuts balanced precariously on his stomach. Removing his eyes unhurriedly from the screen, he disentangled himself from the sofa and rose to a hefty six foot three or four.

‘Hi.’ His steely handshake was accompanied by a broad lazy smile that was all the more startling for the contrast between his teeth, which were numerous, even and exceptionally white, and the depth of his golden tan. With his springy sun-bleached hair, athletic shoulders and model-boy looks, he might have come straight from a Californian lifestyle commercial. He was the same man I had watched through the binoculars on
Samphire
, but coloured more vividly.

While Pike made the drinks, Hayden grinned some more before sauntering back to the sofa and sinking into the cushions with his eyes fixed on the television again, as though the business session hadn’t yet opened and he was still at leisure. When I sat on the chair opposite he didn’t hurry to tear himself away from the blaring comedy but waited for some raucous punch line at which he laughed in a loud contrived way before finally operating the remote control.

He turned his smile on me again, and it was a facile smile without warmth. ‘Good trip?’ he asked as though we were small-talking at a party.

‘Fine, thanks.’

‘Great.’ He nodded a lot, though not as much as he smiled. ‘Going straight back?’

‘I expect so.’

‘Great. I’ll be needing cash, did, ah, he tell you?’ He indicated Pike with a movement of his head.

‘He told me.’

Pike brought the drinks.

Hayden was watching me indolently, like a man with all the time in the world, and I realised he was waiting for the cash to appear on the table.

I produced the traveller’s cheques.

He gave an exaggerated theatrical wince, all regretful head-shaking and raised shoulders. ‘Ah –
sorry
.’ And behind the knowing eyes I recognised someone who was used to getting his own way. I remembered the scene I had witnessed on
Samphire
, the way Sylvie had stood her ground against him.

Pike caught my eye. ‘I’ll go and see if the management can oblige.’ I passed him the cheques and my Amex Gold Card.

‘You won’t mind if we start?’ I asked when Pike had gone.

‘Sure.’ His tone told me what I already knew, that he wouldn’t be telling me anything of real importance until the money arrived.

‘I assume Pike’s told you what this is about?’

He started picking at the nuts again and popping them expertly into his mouth. ‘Sure.’

‘Have you spoken to the police at all?’

‘I’ve been away,’ he said in a conversational tone. ‘Gib, Turkey, Italy, delivering boats. They couldn’t’ve found me if they’d tried.’

‘But you were in Devon until – what, August?’

‘I was coming and going. I got this dinky little cottage up near Totnes. For my, ah, old age, you know.’ And the idea amused him in the way some equally distant prospect like going grey or bald might amuse him. ‘Bit of a ruin still. Done the roof. No heating, no light.’ He shrugged. ‘Next year, I’m hoping.’

‘And
Samphire
– you got to do quite a bit of cruising?’

‘Sure. Always take the old girl out when I can. Otherwise she rots – you know?’ And he smiled his empty affable smile.

Rather than risk questions that he was unlikely to answer, I threw it open. ‘Tell me about Sylvie.’

‘Sylvie?’ He laughed as if I had said something unexpected. ‘
Yeah
. . . Well, we went back quite a way, Sylvie and me. South of France, Ibiza . . .’ He waved a hand, indicating other times, other places. ‘Hung out in the same crowd. So when she came around she, ah, got in touch. You know.’

‘What brought her to Devon?’

He spread an open palm. ‘New start? I guess.’

‘She was happy?’

But this question obviously had its price, and his face took on an impenetrable look.

‘I saw Joe the other day,’ I said, watching for a reaction which I didn’t get. ‘He told me all about Sylvie’s drug—’ I almost said ‘problems’, but amended this to: ‘habits. And he told me about the trips to France on
Samphire
, to the dealer there.’ Hayden’s bland expression did not alter. ‘What I need to know – when our business is done’ – I offered my own version of a hollow smile – ‘is who else she got her stuff from.’

He showed no surprise at the question. Taking a swig of his drink, he creased up his eyes with the effort of some mental calculation and asked, ‘When did you come on the scene with Sylvie? I was trying to work it out.’

‘Me? What’s that got to do with anything?’

‘After Easter, was it?’

‘June,’ I answered reluctantly.

He began his slow nodding again, and did not stop for a long time. ‘Yeah,’ he said at last, as though he had finally solved the puzzle. ‘Yeah.’

Pike reappeared at last with the hotel night manager in tow, and after signing a batch of traveller’s cheques and credit card vouchers I took delivery of a thousand pounds in cash.

I plopped the notes onto the table in front of Hayden.

Unhurriedly he leant forward and scooped them up.

‘Well?’ I demanded.

‘Well?’ Hayden repeated in the lazy amused manner that appeared to be his stock in trade. ‘Where d’you wanna start?’

‘The stuff. Where did she get it?’

And still Hayden took his time. ‘Can’t tell you where she got
everything
. Sylvie had a lot of contacts – you know? But some of the time, back last winter anyway, she had prescriptions. Nicked, I guess. But she never had any trouble with them. Never got thrown out of any chemist or anything. But she was clever about that sort of thing – you know? Used to ring the changes. Sometimes Dartmouth, sometimes Exeter, sometimes Bristol when she was up that way.’

‘They were made out to her, the prescriptions?’

‘Nah,’ he said without hesitation. ‘She used to fill in the names herself. She had three of her own to choose from, you know. Mathieson and a couple of married names.’ He chuckled, ‘Or do I mean divorced names?’ Enjoying his own joke for a moment, he finally sauntered on, ‘She had two passports anyway, one French, one British, in different names. That way she could always produce ID.’ While I was absorbing this he added, ‘The prescriptions, she had plenty last winter. Must have had a whole pad of the things. Cost her, I bet. Well, that’s what I thought—’

‘Cost her?’

‘Sure. Junk isn’t my scene, you understand. But – yeah, she’d have bought them.’

I was being slow, but I had to understand this. ‘You mean, pads get stolen and sold on?’

Deferring to the expert, Hayden tipped an amused glance at Pike.

‘They get stolen all the time,’ Pike confirmed in his bleak voice. ‘Doctors’ cars, surgeries. Though the thieves don’t get much joy a lot of the time because the chemists are on the lookout. Lists of stolen pads get circulated. The chemists check up on anything suspect.’

Hayden drained his drink and wiggled his glass hopefully. Pike got grudgingly to his feet and took the glass for a refill.

Hayden yawned.

‘So?’ I urged.

‘Yeah, well . . . the prescriptions, they seemed to run out in . . . I guess it must have been Easter time, and then she, ah, started on at me to go to France all the time, to pick up stuff there. But listen, that wasn’t my scene. I mean, the occasional little trip, a bit of hash, that’s okay, you know what I mean? But regularly, for junk?’ He blew disapprovingly through his lips. ‘Well, that’s asking for it, isn’t it? And I’ve got my reputation to consider.’ He angled his head a little, as if to show his best profile. ‘One run-in with the customs and I’d never work again. Like,
never
. So I just told her to jump. I told her that wasn’t my game. Then . . . I can’t be sure, you know? But I think she got her stuff from Bristol. Well . . . Let’s put it this way, she never came back from Bristol without quite a stash. That’s all I can tell you, really. That’s all I ever knew. Sylvie – she was, like, quite tight about those little things. Protecting her sources, you might say.’

I groped back in search of a loose end. ‘You were going to say something just now,’ I reminded him. ‘Something about the prescriptions . . .?’

But the thought had gone, and neither Pike nor I managed to prompt his memory.

‘What about boyfriends, lovers?’ I asked. ‘Who was she seeing in the early spring?’

Hayden’s face took on an odd gloating look. ‘There was some bloke, yeah. She saw him all the way through last winter. That’s what our deal was, she used my cottage at weekends, like as a retreat, in exchange for, you know, keeping an eye. She came down from Bristol every weekend, hacked wood, built fires, put buckets out to catch the leaks.’

‘She was living in Bristol?’

‘Sure. Her brother was there.’

‘And the lover, who was he?’

‘She never told me. No names, no pack drill,’ he smirked. ‘
But
. . .’ He paused for dramatic effect. ‘I did see him once. He bowled up at the cottage when I was there. Made off smartish when he realised his mistake. Good dresser, smart car – spanking new Mercedes. Money, definitely.’

It wasn’t what I had expected.

‘Was he local?’

He said with heavy irony, ‘That would have been difficult to say, wouldn’t it, seeing him like that.’

‘What did he look like?’

He made a face. ‘Affluent. Oldish. Your average Mercedes owner.’ It was hard to tell if he was being deliberately evasive, but in the silence that followed I began to think I had wasted my time and money.

Hayden let me fret a little longer before announcing lightly, ‘Saw him again, though.’

I didn’t like being strung along, especially by the likes of Hayden. ‘Oh yes?’ I said harshly.

‘Might even be able to place him for you.’ He spread his hands like a market trader producing the best goods from the back of the barrow.

‘Place him then.’

A look of sly calculation came over Hayden’s face, I spotted the light of avarice in his eyes, and with a stab of cold anger I barked, ‘Don’t even think about it.’

With an expression of injury, Hayden looked around as if to plead his innocence to a wider audience, but behind this extravagant show he was using the time to gauge his position. ‘I wasn’t thinking about a
thing
,’ he protested, laughing to cover his retreat. ‘I’m just trying to tell you, that’s all.’

‘Tell me then.’

‘The guy had a boat on the river. I saw him launching a dinghy from the pontoon.’

A small warning sounded in my brain.

Hayden was watching me closely now. ‘The dinghy was the tender to a boat called
Ellie Miller
.’

My heart gave a single beat, a thump against my chest. I held on to my expression, I showed nothing in my face, but Hayden, with all the perception of a habitual dissembler had picked something up. ‘Someone you know?’ he enquired.

‘You’re sure it was the same man?’ I asked, revealing some of my turmoil.

‘
Yeah
. It was him all right. And then I went and asked someone at the yacht charter place who he was, and they said he was the local doctor. Seemed pretty sure. Like I said, you should be able to place him, right?’

The blood seemed to burst in my veins, I was filled with a terrible heat. I held tight to my drink to stop it from spilling. Then a miraculous liberating thought struck me, and it was so obvious that I almost laughed. ‘Sylvie was his patient. He was probably making a call when he came to the cottage!’ And the relief was already rushing through me.

‘His patient. Yeah, that would make sense, wouldn’t it?’ he said knowingly. ‘With the prescriptions, I mean. That was what I was going to say before – right at the end something she said made me think she was getting those prescriptions on tap. Like, on request.’

‘You’re not hearing what I’m saying,’ I said, holding on to my temper with difficulty. ‘I’m saying he must have gone to the cottage to see Sylvie as a patient. She must have been ill.’

He reflected on this. ‘Could be,’ he conceded. ‘Just one problem.’ And he grinned abruptly; he was enjoying himself. ‘The doctor had a key.’